


Junction

by hellsteeth



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s02e17 End Game (X-Files), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, You do the math, and mulder is terrible at taking care of himself, scully is a medical doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26006347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellsteeth/pseuds/hellsteeth
Summary: A bad case of freezer burn, as it turned out, was not the extent of the damage Mulder suffered from his trip to Alaska.In which Scully accompanies Mulder to physical therapy after the events of End Game wreak havoc on his shoulder.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	Junction

A bad case of freezer burn, as it turned out, was not the extent of the damage Mulder suffered from his trip to Alaska.

After the raspiness of his voice faded and the remains of the esoteric retrovirus were out of his system, after he and Scully returned to D.C. with a renewed desire for the truth but all the more weary for it, Mulder was left with a physical reminder of the whirlwind of events that had transpired in the ship that had, apparently, never existed.

When he had been found on the ice, weakened beyond belief with a body temperature that should have killed him, there had been more important matters to address. Get his heart started and then worry about the frostbite and the dislocated shoulder, that had been the general wisdom of the moment. He couldn’t really fault the doctors for that. Thank god Scully had been there to set them on the right path and shock him back onto this mortal coil.

The alien, shapeshifter, _whatever_ had dragged him around ruthlessly. In the moment, Mulder had barely noticed the _pop_ of his arm being forced out of his shoulder socket. He had been too focused on getting whatever information he could about his sister, nearly begging for any clue or scrap of knowledge that he could use to find her. The fact that she was alive, if this alien was even to be believed, took precedence over the scream of his rotator cuff and the white hot pain on the left side of his body as he was thrown around, attached to the alien by his own handcuffs.

Unfortunately, this pain lingered and was less easy to ignore after the rest of him had healed, an unfortunate reminder of what had transpired. Injury on top of insult on top of injury.

After working for the FBI for so many years, Mulder was no stranger to doctors and hospitals. Once you had slept in one hospital bed, worn one revealing hospital gown and sat in one dull waiting room, you’d pretty much experienced all the joys that the American healthcare system had to offer. Waking up in a hospital bed with an assortment of injuries, he could handle (especially on the occasions that a certain medical doctor was waiting by his bedside). What Mulder was less talented at was the care he was personally responsible for after being discharged from the care of professionals.

Thus, despite being referred to the very best physical therapists that the FBI’s health insurance had to offer, Mulder found himself inadvertently avoiding treatment for the ache in his left arm and shoulder. He’d made one appointment upon arriving home, but had missed it due to a sudden meeting with Skinner. The pain was mostly easy to ignore during the more dull days in the basement, researching, writing reports and filling out paperwork. It became an annoyance while driving (which he now did one-handed), and his swimsuit and usual basketball clothes hadn’t seen the light of day in a while. He’d tried to go jogging once, but even with holding his left arm still the movements of his upper body forced him to stop abruptly and grab at his shoulder, hissing in pain.

Overall, Mulder found myriad inconvenient workarounds for his shoulder injuries, convinced that with enough time the problem would go away on its own. Part of him knew that this was not true, but part of him also knew that a grown man ought to sleep in a bed instead of on a couch and he also chose to ignore that. He was good at these things.

No matter how skilled Mulder was at both fooling himself and changing his daily activities in little ways so as not to upset his shoulder, it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed what was going on. It made perfect sense that that someone was Scully, who both held a medical degree and had become attuned to the specific face Mulder made when in pain over the time they had worked together.

“Mulder,” she said absentmindedly one day in the basement, preoccupied with the results of an autopsy spread out before her on a table. “Could you grab that box of old autopsy reports for me? I want to compare them to these new ones, I think there could be a connection between what happened last week and what happened in 1954.” She looked up and pointed to a box full of files on a shelf that was slightly out of her reach but well within his.

He glanced up at the box, pondering the likelihood of his own ability to lift it over his head with one hand. The odds weren’t good. 

“You know,” he began teasingly, “if I help you every time you need something off a high shelf, what will you do when you encounter one in the wild? Teach a man to fish, Scully…” he trailed off as Scully rolled her eyes and stood.

“Fine, although I’ve survived 31 years without you and your gangly arms. You’re just closer to it.” She grumbled as she grabbed a chair to drag over to the shelf.

Before she could hoist herself up onto the chair though, Mulder stood. “Wait wait, Scully, I’m joking. I’ve got it.” He slid the chair back to its original place. It had been long enough, hadn't it? He’s given his arm enough of a break, and if he started acting strange now, Scully would start to suspect that something was wrong. He’d just lift his arms, grab the box, pull it down and set it on the table. Four steps. Easy.

Not easy.

As he lifted his arms up and away from his body, Mulder felt immediate resistance, a tightness in his left shoulder that fought back against movement. He sucked in a breath and froze, arms out at a forty-five degree angle from his chest. He probably looked ridiculous, although his threshold for embarrassment was pretty high and he couldn’t force himself to care at the moment.

“Everything alright, Mulder?” Scully asked slowly, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded. “Just uh, missed my sunrise yoga this morning. You know me, all about starting the days with good energies and all that.”

She laughed a little and turned back to the report she’d been looking at. “Sound like you. I’ll take that box anytime now, unless you need to do a warrior pose or something to warm up.”

Mulder allowed himself one moment to grimace while her back was turned before schooling his features. “Coming right up,” He dug deep before forcing his arms upward swiftly. A noise somewhere between a snap and a pop rang out suddenly and he doubled over, clutching at his upper left arm.

“Shit!” he hissed through his teeth, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. Fire was scorching his shoulder, travelling white-hot down his left arm.

Scully was at his side in a moment, guiding him to his desk chair and gently pushing him down into it, careful to avoid his left side. She knelt down next to him, eyes quickly analyzing his form.

“Mulder? What happened? What hurts?” His eyes were still closed, his focus on holding his arm perfectly still lest pain spike through it again.

He opened his eyes and met hers, which were trained on his left shoulder with worry. “My shoulder..I-I must have pulled something. I’ll be fine in a little bit.” Scully looked unconvinced.

“That sounded like a rotator cuff injury,” she murmured to herself while gently prying his hand away from the affected area.

“Could be...maybe. I’m not getting any younger, you know.” He said, gritting his teeth at the movement. “Seriously, Scully. It’ll fade. I just need a minute.”

She looked up at his face, her eyes meeting his. He shrunk a little under the intensity of her gaze, the same accusatory look she usually leveled at suspects who were being purposefully obtuse during interrogations.

“You don’t seem very surprised...almost like you knew what would happen. Mulder, how long has your shoulder been bothering you?”

He shrugged defeatedly with his right shoulder, feeling lopsided. “Since we got back from Alaska.”

“That was _weeks_ ago!”

Mulder sighed. “My shoulder was dislocated because of my own stupid handcuffs, as I’m sure you already know. But they popped it back in. It’s just been a little sore since then, but I’m sure it’ll go away soon.”

Scully stood and crossed her arms. “Have you been to see a physical therapist about it? If it is a problem with your rotator cuff that could really help.”

He shook his head. “I haven’t exactly had time.” That was true enough, they’d been swamped lately with budgetary meetings, Bureau-mandated crap and a sudden influx of new cases.

Scully sighed, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and dialing a number.

“Who are you calling?” he asked, although he had a feeling that he already knew the answer.

Scully was already speaking to whoever was on the other end, using the voice she usually reserved for convincing people to meet them outside normal business hours or give them files off the record. Mulder listened to her half of the conversation with a mix of intrigue and dread.

“Hi, Maria. It’s Dana Scully. Yeah, it has been a while. I’m doing well, thanks. Yourself? Oh, that’s good. Really good, yeah-No, I’m not teaching anymore-listen, my partner has been having some pain since he dislocated his shoulder a couple weeks ago in the field. I was wondering if you could squeeze him in for a session sometime this week? Okay, excellent. Yes, no worries, I’ll bring him myself.” Mulder groaned dramatically and she rolled her eyes at him. “Thank you so much. Alright, see you then.” She hung up and pointed at him. “Tomorrow. After work. I’m not going to force you to go, but as your doctor I really recommend it.”

“Who was that?” Mulder asked suspiciously.

“A friend of a friend from med school. She’s one of the best physical therapists in the area these days. I saw her after a car accident gave me whiplash a couple years ago and she worked wonders on my back.” She set a hand on his good shoulder. “She was able to squeeze you in for an appointment as a favor to me. Will you at least let her take a look at you?”

Mulder sighed. “This really isn’t going to go away on its own?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, probably not. And you’ll be no good to the X-files if you’re stuck recovering from a shoulder replacement for six weeks.” She gave him a small, encouraging smile. 

“Fine, but you’re driving.” He smiled back, somewhat relieved to finally have the whole situation out in the open.

Besides the stiffness and lingering pain in his shoulder and arm, the rest of the day and the next work day passed without incident. By the end of the day, he had mostly forgotten about the impending appointment until Scully glanced at the clock and cleared her throat.

“I think we’d better head out, Mulder. Her office is across town and we might hit traffic.” 

He stood and put on his coat, easing his left arm through the sleeve slowly as Scully watched him sympathetically.

“Let’s get this over with,” he sighed with no real annoyance behind the statement. It was nice, touching in a way to have someone care about him like she did.

Thanks to Scully’s sixth sense regarding travel times and ETAs, they made it to the physical therapist’s office with a minute to spare. They sat in silence in the waiting room as Mulder filled out the obligatory paperwork, digging deep into the recesses of his brain for family medical history. Eventually, an assistant took the clipboard from his hands and pointed toward the open door next to the reception desk.

“Alright Fox, Dr. Santis can take a look at you now. Just follow me.”

He and Scully stood and she glanced back at the waiting room chairs awkwardly.

“I’ll just uh, wait here until you’re done then.” She said slowly.

The assistant glanced at them, nonplussed. “Actually, you’ll want to go with him. There will probably be some follow-up routines he’ll need to do at home that you could help him with.”

Mulder was amused by the flush that rose to Scully’s cheeks, as if this was the first time someone had mistaken them for a couple. It happened almost once per case, given their familiarity with each other and the ambiguity of the word _partner_. It usually didn’t bother either of them. Scully raised an eyebrow at him as if to say _it’s up to you._

“Yeah, come on Scully, you are a doctor. You’ll know better than I will what’s going on in there.” Mulder said before she could correct the assistant’s assumption. He smiled at her and she returned the look bemusedly.

“Oh, alright then.” she relented and they made their way to an exam room.

The physical therapist, Dr. Santis, was nice. She was professional, but warm and a little chatty. Mulder began to describe how exactly he had been injured in as casual a way as possible while Dr. Santis stared at him with a poorly feigned calm exterior.

“So, let me make sure I understand.” She said slowly. “You were handcuffed to someone who dragged you across the floor, dislocating your shoulder in the process, and then slammed you onto the floor a few more times? And then your shoulder was fixed an unknown number of hours later?”

“If it helps, it was on ice for a while after.” he offered.

Dr. Santis examined his shoulder, prodding it gently and eliciting winces and hisses of pain. She tested the range of motion he had in a manner that was much more careful and analytical than his homemade test the day before. She concluded that, as Scully had predicted, his rotator cuff had been badly injured if not torn.

After being given a set of instructions for at-home care and a brace for his shoulder, Mulder made another appointment with Dr. Santis and vowed to keep it. He and Scully both thanked her profusely and went on their way.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Scully teased as she opened the passenger side door for him. He smiled and sat down gingerly.

“It was definitely one of the easier visits I’ve had in a while.” He responded. Scully merged onto the highway toward Alexandria. “Aren’t you going to take me back to my car? I don’t think it knows how to drive itself back to my place.”

Scully laughed a little and shook her head. “You can barely move your arm, you’re in no condition to drive. Besides, you need to ice your shoulder sooner rather than later. I can drop you off and then pick you up on my way tomorrow.”

He had envisioned lying on his couch, watching TV in the dark and holding an ice pack to his own shoulder all evening. Spending the evening with Scully sounded much better, especially now that he no longer had to hide his injury.

“If you say so, doc. At least let me buy you dinner, though.” He smiled gratefully.

“Seems like a fair trade to me.”

A few minutes of silence passed between them, the sounds of the highway as their loudest companion.

“Hey Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, reaching his right arm across the passenger seat to place his hand over hers where it rested on the gearshift.

She looked at him and smiled. “Anytime, Mulder. You’d do the same for me.” She was right.

An hour later, Mulder and Scully were eating in companionable silence. Scully held a piece of pizza in one hand and the television remote in the other as she flicked through channels. Eventually, they both agreed on an old science fiction B-movie that had just begun.

Mulder was feeling better than he had in weeks. His stomach was full of pizza, Scully was on his couch and the embers of pain in his shoulder had been cooled nicely by the icepack placed there. Scully, ever the medical professional, had helped him ice his shoulder and maneuver into the brace. Luckily, he would probably be able to wear it under his suit jackets at work. Eventually, between the coolness of the ice on his shoulder and the peaceful feeling of the room, Mulder’s eyes closed and he entered the liminal space between sleeping and waking, only half-hearing the dramatic music coming from the television.

Some time later, he felt Scully’s weight shift on the couch as she scooted closer to him.

“How are you feeling?” she whispered, trying to gauge whether he was asleep. 

“I feel like I should take my doctor’s advice more often.” he replied, opening his eyes slowly and smiling sleepily at her.

She was serious, suddenly, her voice stern. “Yes, you should.” she scolded lightly. He could tell from the moment he hurt his shoulder the day before that she was annoyed, maybe even a little angry, with him for not telling her sooner. But he could see another emotion swimming in her eyes now: betrayal.

“I’m sorry Scully. I shouldn’t have let it go on for that long.” he admitted.

“No, you shouldn’t have. What if it had gotten worse while we were on assignment? Like I said, you’re no good to the X-files, to the Bureau, to me-” she paused, her voice softening. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you because you were trying to be brave, that’s all. And there’s really no need. We’ve both seen each other in pretty bad conditions before.” He was reminded of her lying comatose and dying and frowned. Scully continued,”And besides, you shouldn’t have to suffer at the expense of the X-files.”

He knew she was right, and he had thought the same thing regarding her for some time now.

“Neither of us should have to suffer at the expense of the X-files.” _Especially you_ , he added mentally, _at least I wanted to work on the X-files to begin with_.

“I guess we both have to get better about not suffering in silence, huh?” For a moment, a haunted look passed her features, surely from remembering the trauma of the past year. Mulder thought back to the way she had closed off after the Pfaster case following her moment of vulnerability, of all the ways she had insisted that she was _fine_ after returning to him.

Mulder stretched his right hand across his body awkwardly to pat her on the shoulder. “I guess we do. I’ll try harder if you will.” 

Scully nodded. “Deal.”  
  
He pulled his hand away before it could linger. The moment felt too heavy, too significant. The distance between them on the couch was too far and intimately close at the same time.

He caught her gaze and saw her glance down at the remaining space between them. It could have been his imagination, or just himself projecting onto her, but did she want to move closer to him? Damn his stupid injured shoulder, in the way once again.

To his surprise, Scully stood and shuffled to his right side. “Scooch over a little.” she directed him. He did as she asked and she plopped down next to him gently, glancing at his shoulder to make sure she hadn’t shifted it, and settled in close.

They returned to the movie in comfortable silence, although Mulder wasn’t too concerned with whether the Blob was going to take over the fictional town in it. Scully’s closeness to him was intoxicating, too much and not enough. He felt like a teenager again, and the fact that his right arm had been extended along the back of the couch when she had sat down next to him wasn’t helping. He didn’t dare move it, didn’t dare touch her more than she initiated or indicated that she wanted. So he held his right arm still, six inches away from where he wanted to place it.

His wishes were granted when Scully moved closer to him, snuggling into his side. 

“Is this alright?” she looked at him and chewed on her bottom lip. 

Mulder smiled and lowered his right arm, placing it gently across her shoulders. This type of closeness was new for them, but they both embraced it with a familiarity that surprised Mulder. He had assumed that he was the more touch-oriented of the two of them, with the occasional touches to her lower back, but she leaned her head onto his good shoulder like it was something she did every day. He didn’t mind in the slightest. Her warmth and the feeling of her small frame against his was a feeling he had only imagined, wishful thinking, and the real deal was better than even he could have expected. Holding her in this moment was the polar opposite of holding her as she sobbed into him after the Pfaster incident. There was no tension, and the vulnerability of the moment was something offered up by both of them happily.

The next time Mulder let his eyes drift closed, he really did fall asleep. Usually he either passed out after days of being awake, active and anxious or tossed and turned on his couch for hours before drifting off. His ability to fall asleep easily was just another perk of having Scully nearby. She could fall asleep in the busiest airport or while they drove down the bumpiest road and that energy tended to rub off on him. It had been her, her soft breaths, her warmth and the subtle smell of her shampoo, that had calmed him and lulled him to sleep. She was the only person that had ever had that effect on him.

The next morning, Scully arrived at his door in a fresh suit with a to-go cup of coffee for them both. Mulder would have sworn that the events of the last two days had been an elaborate dream if not for the decreased pain in his arm and the brace on his shoulder (which he had somehow managed to twist into knots while he slept).

They drove back to the Hoover Building in the calm silence of morning, sipping their coffees as Morning Edition played over the radio.

“Don’t forget, you made another appointment with Dr. Santis for next Tuesday.” Scully reminded him lightly as she pulled into the parking garage. Mulder nodded.

“I’ll be there. Speaking of which,” he smiled lopsidedly at her, not entirely sure how to proceed. “If uh...you wanted to come over after…” she watched him patiently as he floundered for the words. “...I might need some help icing my shoulder. And you _are_ my doctor, after all.” He looked at her hopefully.

Scully smirked. “That makes sense to me. Maybe that will motivate you to keep your appointment.” She winked at him playfully and he smiled to himself as they walked into the basement office. His shoulder still ached, but maybe it would be worth it in the long run.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Comments are always appreciated. Feel free to come say hi @ midwest-cryptid on tumblr.


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